My name is Helen Jones and I’m a doctor employed by the British Antarctic Survey. For the next nine months I’ll be working on board the James Clark Ross as she performs scientific research in the Southern Ocean and supplies the British research bases of Antarctica.
I’ve started this blog in the hopes of entertaining and giving people a chance to see some pretty pictures. I might even throw some science in occasionally!

Tuesday, 11 October 2016

We're all Spartacus

I woke up this morning with a broad smile on my face. You
see, I haven’t been completely forthright and honest about this Ceremony of
Neptune thing. The crew have been winding all of the novitiates up for weeks.
We’ve been told about having slops poured over ourselves, hair trimmings, being
forced to recite poetry...the list of punishments goes on and on. But a
glimmering of an idea erupted in my head the day that our chief cook proudly
showed me the makings of the slops barrel. He told me freely that they let it
fester in the sun for days before using it- although the exact location is naturally
top secret. I immediately confided in my
co-conspirator Paul Morgan and together we thought that it might be amusing if
the slops were to mysteriously vanish the night before the ceremony.

Our enemies had hidden the barrel too well and despite an agent
provocateur (who shall remain nameless) feeding us information about the
location of the slops barrel we were unable to locate it over the course of
several midnight raids. It’s a big ship and we were forced to think hard about
where it might be. It couldn’t be in the galley because it would reek and be
unhygienic. It had to be somewhere that was warm so that the mixture would
fester nicely. It couldn’t be up or down too many sets of stairs; galley staff
had to be able to get to it quickly and easily to top it up with more food
waste. Our deliberations led us to only one place- it had to be in the
forecastle. But when we searched-we couldn’t find the slops! What we did find
however, was the kipper. The same kipper that we have to kiss in order to pass
into King Neptune’s Court. We formulated a plan to return the night before the
ceremony and kidnap the kipper after which we would ransom it for a case of
beer for all the pollywogs.

Yesterday brought us new tidings. Two of the scientists,
Maddy and Kerry, who have been in on our plans from the start, brought us
information. The shellbacks were moving the slops; they thought that we had
found it and were moving it for protection. Last night we saddled up again,
made our way to the forecastle (under cover of darkness) and found it! The
sides and lid were bulging with the tightly contained fermenting gases and when
I popped the lid (sorry Paul) we reeled backwards from the stench. Thank you to
our chief cook, for doing such a good job on the slops! Fishy doesn’t even
cover it.

We absconded with the kipper and half of the slops- hiding
the rest of them by the side of the cargo tender. The remainder we poured into
condoms, to form our own little arsenal. That was possibly one of the weirder
moments of my life, but if I’m ever asked to provide an example of team work in
a job interview, this will be it. Me opening the condoms, Paul unrolling them
and holding them open ready for me to pour rotting slops into them with a jug.
Not a picnic, I don’t mind saying. I really thought I might vomit.

Last night Maddy and Kerry were on their own midnight raids,
acquiring flour from the kitchen hidden under a layer of washing. Nice work
ladies. We are armed. They’ve faced some pressure today to ‘fess up and reveal
all. But they are made of steel.

Today has been nothing but trash talk. I made my way down to
the duty mess earlier and was cornered by the galley staff. I’d like to think I
bluffed well, but I clearly had a massive smirk on my face. They couldn’t stop
laughing either...it seems they’ve made a new barrel. The first officer tried
to tell me that someone had turned evidence in return for a softer sentencing
in the ceremony; I just laughed and said I would have done the same if I’d
known who it was. Shame I couldn’t help him really. What the crew have not yet
realised...is that we are all Spartacus. Taking this too far? Absolutely.